


Moonlit Knights

by Sheepie



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abuse of Kingsman terms, Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Corny use of attack names, Everyone is BAMF, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Girl Eggsy, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Pining, Smut, Talking J.B., Teacher-Student Relationship, monster attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy never expected saving a stray pug from some drunks would lead to magical powers, but now he's fighting evil by moonlight as Guinevere <i>and</i> trying to not fall for his history professor. He's on a quest with his companions, Percival, Merlin, and Lancelot, to find King Arthur and the Silver Excalibur, but with the Nega-Syndicate and the mysterious Galahad showing up at the worst times, all Eggsy is trying to do is survive.</p><p>
  <b>on hiatus</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's a Bulldog, Innit?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to beta Ana!
> 
> Yeah... I still can't believe I wrote this. XD But here it is, the official Sailor Moon AU.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Eggsy announced as he walked out of the back room, shrugging on his jacket. “Was there anything else y’ wanted me to do Mr. Morton?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Robyn,” Robyn corrected with a bemused smile and a slight shake of his head. “No, I can finish up from here. Go home and get some rest. You have a test tomorrow, don’t you?”

Eggsy grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

“I have complete faith that you’ll do fine,” Robyn said, smoothing his hands down the bolt of fabric he’d been straightening. “Now go. Don’t stay up too late studying.”

Eggsy waved goodbye to his boss and slipped out into the crisp night. Most of the shops on Savile Row were already dark, closed up tight for the evening. Robyn always tended to stay later than everyone else. Eggsy never understood it, especially since he was more than willing to close up the tailor shop for him, but Robyn always brushed Eggsy off with a smile and told him to focus on his studies.

Eggsy tugged his wool coat tighter around his frame, popping up the collar to shield his neck from the fall breeze. He glanced up and down the dimly lit street, patches of sidewalk illuminated by the street lamps, and sighed gently. He was tired and all he really wanted to do when he got home was heat up a cup of noodles and sit in front of the telly, but he needed to study for Professor Hart’s test tomorrow.

His cheeks immediately warmed at the thought of his handsome history professor. Eggsy coughed in his hand, tamping down the sudden desire that spiked in his gut— _get it together bruv_ —and started home. Roxy teased him about getting flustered over his professor, a man twenty years his senior, but she hadn’t seen how fit Professor Hart was, so she could sod off.

It was a long walk from Savile Row to his apartment near Kingsley University. Luckily Eggsy got out from Morton’s early enough to catch the last train home. He fished his ear buds out of his coat pocket, popped them in his ears, and selected his commuting playlist on his phone. The music helped relax his shoulders as he reclined in the hard plastic seat of the train. He shifted every few minutes, a crick forming between his shoulder blades and in his lower back.

Eggsy jumped up once his stop came, immediately stretching and cracking his spine, and hopped off the train. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his navy coat as he exited the Tube and made his way home. Growing up in a rough neighborhood had taught Eggsy that keeping your head down and minding your business was the smartest way to survive, and that was exactly what he did when he made the late night trip home from the tailor shop. Even though he’d moved out of East End, he didn’t trust everyone that lived near the campus. Get enough beers in someone and they could turn as mean as a bulldog.

He checked to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, and then sprinted across the street, glad there were only two more blocks to clear before he reached his flat. A couple stumbled past him, wrapped in one another, laughing as they made their way in the opposite direction Eggsy was heading. He past one of the local pubs near campus and turned the corner.

The ear bud in his left ear slipped out, and over the throaty vocals of Estelle, Eggsy caught a sharp whine from the alley he passed. He stopped, tugging out the other ear bud, and peered down the darkened alley. Three men were huddled together, laughing drunkenly at something on the ground.

Eggsy’s gut twisted and a sharp bolt of white hot anger ripped through his stomach as one of the men kicked the thing on the ground, eliciting another yelp.

“Hey!” Eggsy shouted, stuffing his earphones in his pocket. “What are y’ doing arseholes!”

“Sod off,” One of the men yelled back.

“Leave that dog alone!” Eggsy demanded, not even hesitating as he made his way towards the group.

“And who’s gonna make us?” The guy on the left asked.

They turned around, one by one, and Eggsy realized a little too late that they were much taller than him, and definitely wider. He glanced down at the fluffy pile trembling on the ground, and any trepidation left him. He snarled up at them. “I am, y’ shit heads. Who beats on a fucking dog?”

“Oi, he’s got a mouth, this one does,” The man on the right said. The alley was too dark to make out their faces. All Eggsy could see were shadowy impressions of the towering men. Eggsy spent his childhood fighting men twice his size. He stopped being scared of them when he realized that all he had to do was be faster.

The man in the middle stepped into the light. He was broad across the shoulders, his body almost comically disproportioned by a heavy upper half and a small trunk. His meaty jaw was clenched, the scowl twisting his mouth making his underbite more prominent.

“Y’ three goin’ to keep on talking, or we gonna fight?” Eggsy asked. He didn’t need to hear some tired monologue about what they were going to do to him.

The man—Eggsy decided to call him Bulldog—smirked, glancing over his shoulder at his companions with a huff. He spun around and made a run for Eggsy, trying to bum rush him, but Eggsy moved out of the way with ease. Men like Bulldog were all the same. They relied heavily on their brute strength, thinking that all they had to do was throw their fists around hard enough to win a fight. Gymnastics and a short stint in the marines had taught Eggsy to use his body as more than a battering ram, that fighting wasn’t about raw brutality but calculated steps.

Eggsy used the narrow space of the alley to his advantage. The men were too large to move all at once, and Eggsy’s slighter frame allowed him to slip past. The fight was over before it really started, with Bulldog and his friends on the ground, each nursing a bloody nose, black eye, and injured wrist, respectively.

“Movver fooker,” Bulldog groaned, blood gushing from his nose. He spat a red glob on the ground, teeth stained garishly.

“Piss off,” Eggsy ordered, cracking his knuckles for added effect. “Or I’ll break more than yer nose the second go round.”

Bulldog’s friend grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the alley, saying, “It ain’t worth it.”

Eggsy waited until they were out of sight before he turned to the quivering mass on the ground. It was a little tan and black ball, barely the size of a newborn. He crouched down and reached for the pup. The dog flinched and yelped in distress.

“Easy,” Eggsy whispered, moving to hold his hand out and let the dog scent him.

The pup lulled his head to the side, staring up at Eggsy with large brown eyes that seemed to bulge from his head. His bottom jaw jutted out slightly, revealing a row of small teeth. In the middle of his forehead was a Band Aid. The pup huffed and licked Eggsy’s knuckles weakly.

“There’s a good pup,” Eggsy praised and gingerly lifted the dog into his arms. “Poor thing. Wot were they doing to y’?” He scratched him behind the ear. “Wot are we gonna do, hmm?”

Eggsy couldn’t leave him here. _Best take him home._ The pup snuffled and burrowed into Eggsy’s arms. Eggsy smiled gently down at the dog, wondering how someone could be cruel to such a precious animal. _Awful people in the fuckin’ world._

He brought the pup home to his little apartment, which was really just a one-room flat that barely constituted as a home. It was all he could afford, though, so he didn’t complain. Eggsy looked the dog over as soon as they were home, and when he was sure there weren’t any injuries, he laid the pup on the floor and said, “Ain’t got any dog food, so we’ll have to make do with some cereal. Y’ won’t mind, will y’?”

The pup blinked and Eggsy took that as a no. He fixed two mismatched bowls of Captain Crunch with milk, setting one on the floor in front of the dog. “Enjoy.”

He took a seat on the loveseat, which was arranged next to his bed, a nightstand wedged between the two pieces of furniture. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, turned on the telly to something mindless, and dug into his supper. He could hear Roxy yelling at him now, telling him that cereal wasn’t a proper dinner.

Eggsy looked down at the pup, who had his face buried in the bowl. Eggsy smirked, laughing to himself when the dog lifted his head, milk dribbling down his pudgy face. His butt wiggled in what Eggsy assumed was the pup’s version of wagging his tail, which curled tightly against his rear.

“Funny lookin’ bulldog, ain’t y’?” Eggsy commented. “Here, let’s get that bandage off.”

He removed the Band Aid, revealing an odd bald marking in the center of the pup’s forehead. “Wot’s that?” Eggsy raised one eyebrow. It was a circle with what looked like an upside down ‘K’. Eggsy had never seen anything like it. “Someone do that to y’ boy?”

The pup snuffled and buried his face back into the bowl, noisily munching on the cereal. Eggsy shook his head and turned back to the television, realizing that an episode of _Sailor Moon_ was on.

* * * *

Robyn didn’t look up from his paperwork when Roxy and Merlin arrived. He finished tallying the day’s numbers, and then snapped the ledger closed and slipped it back into his desk. It’d been another good day, with several orders coming in from new clients and three regulars commissioning suits. Robyn honestly didn’t know where he’d be if it weren’t for Eggsy. The lad had been indispensable, and he thanked the stars that he’d found him. Robyn was going to need all the help he could get with the massive orders.

Robyn pushed away from his desk and stood, smoothing down a wayward tawny strand of hair. His back was tense from leaning over the books for so long, so he dug a knuckle into his shoulder blade and gave his shoulder an experimental roll, trying to loosen up the muscle. He looked over at Merlin and dropped his hand, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. While Merlin’s expression didn’t hint at any kind of distress, there was a sharpness in his gray eyes that usually wasn’t there. Most wouldn’t be able to see the difference—Merlin exuded an intense severity that kept people at a safe distance—but Robyn had known his fellow agent long enough to see the signs, and there was a deeper-than-normal groove between his thick black brows.

“J.B. is still gone and I haven’t gotten word yet on his status,” Merlin stated. “He had located a signal for Guinevere and went to investigate, to see if he could awaken the agent if they were nearby. That was over five hours ago.”

“He may be with Guinevere now,” Roxy pointed out. “It isn’t uncommon for J.B. to vanish when he thinks he’s sniffed out a signal. Right, Percival?”

“Lancelot is correct, but J.B. also usually touches base,” Robyn said, frowning. “Where was this?”

“He said he narrowed the signal around Kingsly University,” Merlin said.

“Let’s go down to the base, we’ll see if we can run a scan on him,” Robyn suggested, and without waiting, left his office and headed into fitting room three. He approached the three panel mirror, and after Roxy and Merlin had entered the room, he pressed his hand flat against the center glass. A biometric scan ran over his palm. There was a confirmative beep, followed by a mechanical whirr. The room began to descend.

The fitting-room-turned-lift shuddered to a stop when it reached its destination, deep underground below Morton’s Tailor Shop. Robyn stepped off and proceeded down a long white hall, which branched off in various directions. He continued straight ahead, entering a command center. Merlin went to the massive computer in the center of the room.

“Do you think he really found Guinevere?” Roxy asked, stepping up behind Merlin and crossing her arms over her chest. She was still dressed in her civilian clothes, a pair of black leggings with a fashionable bulky sweater. The golden signet ring on her right hand glinted beneath the overhead lights.

Robyn observed his niece, wondering for the millionth time if he should have tried harder to keep her from this life, if he should have done more to steer her away from becoming a Kingsman. Perhaps things would have been different for her. She wouldn’t live this life, a series of reincarnations; spirit bound and forced to repeat history, until they could finally find their one true king.

He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts, and answered, “It’s a possibility. J.B. wouldn’t stay away this long if he hasn’t.”

Excitement radiated off her like a static charge. In all their lifetimes, they’d never found Guinevere. They’d come close— _so close_ —but they’d always been too late. Robyn didn’t want to think that this was it, to get his hope up and believe that they’d finally found the one Kingsman to lead them to the king—but god, did he hope J.B. had done it, that they’d finally be bringing Guinevere home.

“I’ve got him,” Merlin announced, eyes trained on the gigantic screen that dominated the wall. His fingers flowed across the keyboard, barely visible as he drew up the location where J.B. had wandered off to. “Kingsly University. Hold on, I’ll see if I can get an address.”

An alarm went off, the screen cutting to red and flashing. Robyn rushed to Merlin’s side, leaning over to look at the monitor. Merlin cursed.

“It’s coming from Green Park,” Merlin stated as he pulled up the map of London and zoomed into where the alert was coming from.

“They don’t know when to stop, do they?” It wasn’t a question, so Robyn didn’t answer Roxy. She dropped her arms and asked, “Should we worry about J.B.?”

“J.B. will be fine,” Robyn said as he turned on his heels and marched to the door. “Let’s go deal with the fiend.”

* * * *

There was a pressure on Eggsy’s stomach, digging deep into his side and adding weight somehow to his bladder. He groaned and tried to shift and roll over, but the weight gravitated up, resting on his chest and compressing his lungs. Something sharp nudged his face and he swatted uselessly at it.

He was dreaming about history class. More specifically, Professor Hart. Even more specific, he was dreaming about Professor Hart lecturing for only him, standing at the head of the lecture hall stark naked. He turned, brown eyes gleaming in the sun that streamed in through the massive windows lining the wall, their hues turning a shade that was somewhere between spiced rum and honey whiskey. The hard lines of his body—which he always insisted on hiding beneath frumpy cardigans and jumpers—were outlined by strategically placed shadows, his muscles seeming to glitter and gleam in the sun beams.

Professor Hart flashed Eggsy a disarming smile, not seeming to care that he was in the buff, and said, “Get up.”

Eggsy frowned. That wasn’t Professor Hart’s voice. He had a very posh, mellow baritone. This was a slightly sharp tenor, almost prepubescent. Eggsy shifted in his seat and asked, “Wot was that professor?”

“I said—” Professor Hart began in his normal voice, but it switched suddenly to the higher one. “Hey, get up.”

The pressure on his chest grew. Eggsy shifted uncomfortably. Pain flared on his cheek, followed by Professor Hart shouting, “Get up, you idiot!”

Eggsy jolted awake. He flipped on his bedside lamp, rubbing his cheek, and stared down at the disgruntled ball of fluff in his lap. The pup stared up at him with bulging brown eyes, mouth hung open and tongue lulled out.

“Oi, was that y’ who woke me?” Eggsy groused groggily, rubbing at his smarting cheek. “Wot, y’ need to go out or sumfin?”

“No,” The pup answered. “I need you to listen to me.”

Eggsy froze and stared wide-eyed at the dog in his lap. “D-did y’ just… _holy shit_. I must be dreamin’.” That was the only thing to explain a _dog_ talking to him. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Sorry, this isn’t a dream,” The pup said, completely obliterating any hope that Eggsy wasn’t going insane.

Eggsy scrambled from the bed, effectively tossing the pup onto the floor, who profusely complained about the abrupt movement, and tried to put as much distance between himself and the dog. “Fuck! Are y’ taking the piss? Y’ can’t talk! Yer a fucking bulldog!”

“A pug, actually,” The pup corrected as he untangled himself from the blankets and stood on all fours. “And my name is J.B.”

Eggsy paused, blinking down at the pup—no, J.B.—and stammered, “I thought y’ was a bulldog.”

“Afraid not,” J.B. said. “Now if you’re done—”

“Shit,” Eggsy hissed. There was a talking pug in the middle of his flat. Those thugs must have hit him in the head or something, because there was no way he was holding a conversation with a fucking dog. Eggsy cradled his head, sinking down onto the mattress. “Oh fuck fuck—this ain’t happening.”

“Look, we don’t have time for this,” J.B. snapped, and Eggsy would have laughed at the way his voice lilted like a child’s if it weren’t the fact that it was a _dog talking_.

“Look, bruv, I don’t know about y’, but this ain’t a normal thing for me,” Eggsy said, dropping his hands. He glared down at the pug, not sure what he was going to do. What did someone do with a talking dog?

“Well, get use to it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot of me.” J.B. sniffed, but it came out more as a sneeze. He rubbed his nose between his paws, then shook his head, and the flare of anger in Eggsy’s chest burned out. J.B. stared up at Eggsy, his eyes like gleaming brown marbles. Eggsy sighed and picked J.B. up, settling him in his lap. J.B.snuffled and said, “Thank you, by the way, for removing that bandage. Some kids had stuck it on me earlier and I couldn’t talk because of it.”

“No problem, bruv,” Eggsy said. He didn’t really know what to do about carrying on with his dog—sure, people did it all the time, but usually the dog didn’t respond back—but he figured freaking out wasn’t going to do anything, so he settled for resigned disbelief.

“Now I need you to listen to me, Eggsy,” J.B said, hopping off of his lap and sitting on the bed. “There’s a lot to explain and no time to do it, so I need you to focus. You’re the reincarnation of Guinevere, a Kingsman of Neo-Camelot. It’s your job, and that of your fellow Kingsman, to find King Arthur and restore Neo-Camelot.”

Maybe freaking out was a good idea after all.

“Come again?” He really was going insane. “I’m a wot for the wot? Oi, is this some kinda joke? Y’ a robot or sumfin? Jamal set this up?”

Eggsy reached for J.B. and the pug nipped at his fingers. Eggsy recoiled his hand, glaring at the pug.

“Listen!” J.B. shouted. “Right now your fellow Kingsman are in danger. I sense a powerful fiend out there right now and there’s no doubt in my mind that Percival, Lancelot, and Merlin have all gone to fight it. But they need your help, Eggsy. They need Guinevere.”

“Yer completely bonkers!” He stood, pacing across his room to the small fridge tucked beneath the sink. He grabbed a bottle of beer and turned back around to look at J.B., who still sat on his bed. “I’m not this—wot y’ call me? Guinevere? That’s a bleeding girl’s name!”

“You're right, she was the queen, and she served alongside our king for many years, until the darkness descended. But her gender doesn’t change the fact that you’re her reincarnation and you have a responsibility— _a duty_ —as a Kingsman to protect this planet.”

“You’re crazy—I ain’t this… this queen, and I sure as hell don’t have any responsibility to the planet,” Eggsy yelled. This all sounded like some elaborate story, a cartoon he’d enjoy on Saturday mornings. This wasn’t reality. Real life wasn’t filled with heroes and villains. It was just people, all trying to make it by.

“I’m a talking dog, does any of this really seem practical to you?” J.B. pointed out, and Eggsy swore the pug cocked an eyebrow at him. “Whether you like it or not, your fate has already been decided. Now you can either accept it or fight it, but you can’t change it.”

Condensation rolled over Eggsy’s fingers. He swallowed thickly. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, too thick to work, so he nodded mutely.

J.B. leapt off the bed, somehow managing to flip in mid-air despite his chubby body and stubby legs. The air tingled, charged with electricity, and a shimmer of light sparkled around J.B. like ice fractals catching in the sun. J.B. landed gracefully on the floor. Eggsy was too busy gaping at J.B. to notice the medallion lying on his bed where the pug had sat at first, but then his gaze gravitated to the piece of jewelry.

“Wot the ‘ell is this? Where the fuck did it even come from? Did y’ fucking shit it?” Eggsy sputtered, not sure how the medallion could have appeared. It was as if J.B. had pulled it out of thin air.

J.B. snorted. “Funny.”

He set his untouched beer down on the counter and walked over to the bed. He reached for the necklace, his hand hovering over the medallion.

The pendant was simple in design, a pink ring with an upside down ‘K’ in the center, the same design as the marking on J.B’s forehead. The ‘K’ was a golden braid, with four looped knots marking the cardinal points. It hung from a simple chain, which slipped through Eggsy’s fingers like silk. He hooked a finger in the chain and let the medallion hang in front of him, slowly turning around, the lamp light catching off the polished surface.

It felt right to hold the necklace, to weigh the medallion in his palm and glide his fingers over the golden chain. This was his medallion. He knew it the same way he knew that his name was Gary Unwin.

He took a deep breath and slipped on the necklace. Nothing happened as the medallion settled against his chest. Eggsy looked at J.B., one eyebrow cocked. “Now wot?”

“Now you say ‘manners maketh man’,” J.B. instructed.

Eggsy shrugged—in for a penny, in for a pound, right?—and said skeptically, “Manners maketh man.”

For a split second nothing happened, and Eggsy was almost ready to call the asylum and check himself in, but then a tingling sensation rolled over him, beginning in his chest and radiating out, every fiber and strand of DNA awakening with a burning pulse. He drew in a strangled breath, eyes wide, and stared down at his hands. He swore he could see his flesh shivering along his bones, beams of light slipping through the cracks in his skin cells.

His spine turned into a lightning rod, a spark of electricity racing down, stiffening Eggsy’s muscles. He flung his arms out, legs spread wide, and threw his head back with a sudden cry. The medallion around his neck lifted in the air, glowing as brightly as the northern star. The light grew, enveloping Eggsy, swallowing him up in the radiance.

As suddenly as it started, the light was extinguished. Eggsy stood in the center of his flat, panting heavily, his t-shirt and briefs replaced by a navy bespoke suit with pinstripes, a starched white shirt, and a navy tie striped with pink. He patted his chest, feeling the expensive fabric beneath his fingertips—he knew suits, he knew what it meant to touch luxurious wool with the highest thread count—and gasped. “Holy shit. W-what the _fuck_ just happened?”

“You transformed,” J.B. drawled, walking around to sit in front of Eggsy. “You’re now Guinevere, a Kingsman.”

Eggsy stared down at the suit, heart thundering between his ears. His brain was still trying to catch up with everything. He couldn’t fathom the words to describe what had just happened. It was like his body had transcended time and space, entering a realm where only golden warmth existed, and then he was brought back to earth. It had all taken place in a matter of seconds, but those few brief heartbeats had felt like a lifetime.

“Come on, you have work to do,” J.B. announced. He trotted to the door.

Eggsy smoothed his hand down his tie, straightening it, and asked as he followed behind the pug, “So wot exactly am I gettin’ into?”


	2. Fighting Evil by Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy spends the night fighting his first Fiend. Hopefully he isn't late for his exam!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta Ana!

Eggsy still didn’t believe that this wasn’t all some elaborate lucid dream. Usually those dreams centered on Professor Hart, but maybe his brain was replaying some cartoon or movie he’d watched before falling asleep. He read once that dreams were just your brain filtering back the day’s events and memories.

J.B. led Eggsy to Green Park. Eggsy was a little disappointed he couldn’t conjure up an invisible car. Didn’t superheroes get some kind of cool ride for easy transportation? Like the bat mobile. Instead he ran several blocks to the park. By the time they made it, Eggsy was winded and ready to drag his sorry arse back into bed.

“Hold on, will ya?” Eggsy shouted. He leaned forward, hands on his thighs, and focused on catching his breath.

“We don’t have time to stop,” J.B. said, anxiously hopping from one foot to another, his claws clicking on the pavement. He let out an indignant yip and ran ahead.

Eggsy pushed off his thighs with a groan and grumbled under his breath, “I think I liked y’ better when y’ didn’t talk.”

A breeze whipped through the trees, turning the leaves over with an ominous rustle. Eggsy glanced around the ill-lit path. The park was saturated with deep shadows, narrowing Eggsy’s passage to the single trail illuminated by a dim lamppost. Dread pooled in his stomach as the realization that this wasn’t a dream crept in.

If this was actually real, what had he gotten himself into?

He hurried behind J.B., following the pug to an open field. A loud explosion and shout alerted Eggsy of the battle ahead. A hundred yards away, caught in an epic duel, were three suit-clad fighters and Eggsy didn’t even know what—a monster, he surmised. It was the only word he could think of to describe the creature.

“Wot the fuck is that?” Eggsy asked, not sure what he was supposed to do. Sure, he was light on his feet and could throw a decent punch, but he didn’t think any of that would do him good against the goliath.

The monster looked like a splicing experiment gone horribly wrong. It had the trunk of a spider and the torso and head of a red-scaled woman. Her eight legs looked razor sharp, and her black arachnid-body gleamed in the moonlight like oil. She scuttled across the grass, moving faster than Eggsy could see. She leapt and knocked back a blond-haired woman in a gray suit and green tie.

“Oh fuck no—I don’t do spiders, bruv,” Eggsy said.

“A Nega-Fiend, a servant of the Nega-Syndicate,” J.B. answered, then barked, “Now go!”

Eggsy pulled a face, hesitating for a moment as he watched the three fighters battle. The blond woman struck the Nega-Fiend with what looked like a lightning bolt, but it didn’t seem to do much to stop the monster.

J.B. nipped Eggsy’s ankle. “Go!”

“Ow! Alright!” Eggsy shouted and ran towards the battle, questioning once again if he was about to make a horrible mistake.

Eggsy didn’t know what to do, so he picked up a large branch he found in the grass, and came at the Nega-Fiend swinging. He caught her in one of her rear legs, just as a ball of fire slammed into her, sending the monster to the ground. She let out a spine-tingling hiss and swiped out at Eggsy, which he narrowly dodged.

“Who the hell are you?” The blond girl shouted, then threw her hand up and cried, “Star Shaker!”

Her fingers crackled with white hot electricity, forming a sizzling ball of energy, which she hurtled at the Nega-Fiend. The Nega-Fiend leapt out of the way. Eggsy stumbled back, barely missing being trampled by the monster. He opened his mouth to answer, but J.B. cut him off with a loud bark. “Knights, this is Guinevere! Get off the ground Guinevere and help!”

“Wot the hell am I supposed to do?” Eggsy demanded, running around the Nega-Fiend.

A bald man in a dark navy suit and pale blue tie shouted in a deep Scottish brogue, “Whispering Waves!”

The rush of water filled Eggsy’s ears as a wave rose up, shielding him before the spiderweb the Nega-Fiend spit out could wrap around him. A thread slipped past the protective shield and scraped Eggsy’s cheek, drawing a thin red line. Eggsy hissed in pain, chest suddenly caught in a vice.

This was real. This was all fucking real and he was really standing there and they were really fighting and… “Bloody hell, I’m going to die,” Eggsy cried.

“Not if you fight,” A man in a black suit with a fire-red tie stated. Eggsy had the oddest feeling that he knew that voice. It was soft, yet severe, holding the slightest Welsh accent, much like his boss’s.

“Guinevere, hold your hand up and shout ‘Cheer Escalation’!” J.B. instructed, running along the sidelines of the battle.

Eggsy shot him a dubious look, but raised his right hand and shouted, “Cheer Escalation!”

A tingling sensation rushed up his arm, as if thousands of fireflies were migrating up his veins and gathering in the palm of his hand. A pulsating light swelled around his hand, forming a fist-sized golden egg. Eggsy acted on instinct, as if an invisible hand were guiding his limbs through the motions. He held onto the egg and spun around in a full circle, releasing on the come around. The egg arched through the air like a comet, a shimmering tail trailing behind it.

The egg exploded like a Christmas cracker over the Nega-Fiend, showering her in a thick curtain of stardust and sunbeams. The Nega-Fiend let out a loud, baleful screech, body convulsing and twisting in unnatural angles. The glitter settled over the Nega-Fiend and, right before Eggsy’s eyes, she shrunk in size, glowing with the intensity of a star. The oscillating halo faded, and in its wake was an unconscious woman lying on the grass.

“Oh my days,” Eggsy gasped, hand dropping to his side, the tingling sensation long gone. His knees gave out and he sunk to the grass, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman.

“Did she just change back?” The blond girl asked, a strand of hair escaping her ponytail and falling into her eyes. She absently brushed it aside, gaze focused on Eggsy. “How did—he’s really Guinevere, isn’t he J.B.?”

J.B. padded over to him and took a seat at Eggsy’s side. “He is, and he was able to expel the darkness from her Heart Crystal.”

“Heart… fuck, I keep thinking this is a dream, but it ain’t, innit?” Eggsy looked sideways at the pug, brain still caught on replaying the last thirty seconds.

“I’m afraid this is very real,” The bald man said, approaching Eggsy. He held a hand out. “I’m Merlin.”

Eggsy accepted Merlin’s hand, letting the larger man haul him to his feet. Merlin nodded to the blond woman and then the man in the red tie. “And that’s Lancelot and Percival.”

“Do these… Nega-Fiends not change back?” Eggsy asked, glancing at the woman. She seemed so small compared to her previous state—she definitely had less legs.

“No. We’ve tried, but we could never truly save them,” Percival said with a sigh, his arms crossed over his chest. “Once Darkness takes hold of a Heart Crystal you can’t save it… or you couldn’t before.” Percival studied Eggsy, and Eggsy suddenly related closely to the pinned butterflies hanging on the walls of Professor Hart’s office. Percival’s critical stare was cool, almost calloused, and Eggsy got the distinct feeling that he was being weighed—to what, he wasn’t sure, but a judgment was being passed in Percival’s eyes, and Eggsy only hoped it was in his favor.

“Heart Crystals? Darkness?” He wasn’t sure if it was the residual energy lingering in his system, a sudden drop in adrenaline, or the fact that he’d just taken a swan dive into Wonderland, but Eggsy’s head hurt. “Look, bruv, I don’t know wot yer talkin’ about.”

“It’s late,” Percival announced, as if that explained everything.

Merlin nodded. “Aye. I’ll arrange for the lass to get a hospital.”

“Oi, mind explaining to me wot the fuck is going on?” Eggsy demanded, short on both patience and sleep.

“Tomorrow,” Percival said. “Come by Morton’s Tailor Shop after nine.”

“Morton’s—it is you!” Eggsy leapt forward, startling Percival. “I thought I recognized that voice—but why didn’t I recognize your face at first?”

Percival’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Merlin and Lancelot stepped up behind Percival, watching the exchange curiously. Eggsy pointed at himself, smiling dopily at Percival. “’s me, Eggsy Unwin, Mr. Morton.”

Percival’s mouth dropped open and he looked between J.B. and Eggsy. “E-Eggsy…?” He swallowed, then let out a long sigh and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow, after the shop closes.”

Eggsy wanted to press for information right then, but he had a feeling there was a lot to discuss and he didn’t know he had the energy or the mental capability to focus anymore.

“Eggsy, don’t you have a test tomorrow?” Percival asked after a moment.

“Shit!” Eggsy cried. He’d almost forgotten about his history exam. The sky had softened to a dove gray, heralding the dawn. Eggsy leapt in the air and spun around, calling over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

Half way up the hill, Eggsy called back, “Come J.B.!”

J.B. glanced at the other Kingsman before running after Eggsy.

* * * *

Eggsy jolted awake to a screaming alarm clock and J.B. barking, “Get up you idiot! You’re going to be late!”

Eggsy pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to push back the headache storming to the front of his cranium, and groaned. “Wot?” He looked at J.B., sure he heard the pug talking, and slurred, “Bloody hell… I had the weirdest dream boy.”

“Well you can tell me about it later. You need to get to class!” J.B. snapped, pawing at Eggsy’s thigh.

Eggsy slammed his back into the headboard, trying to separate himself as much as possible from the pug. “W-wot…” Eggsy trailed off into a string of curses. He hit the alarm clock, silencing the shrill beeping. “I had really hoped it was all a fucked up dream.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid it wasn’t.” J.B. cocked his head to the side. “Are you going to class or not?”

Eggsy blinked slowly. Class? His stomach lurched up into his throat. He grabbed the alarm clock and shouted, “Son of a bitch!” He threw the clock on the bed and jumped up, feet tangled in the sheets. Eggsy face-planted the floor with a long groan.

J.B. hopped off the bed, landing on Eggsy’s back, before he trotted off and came around to face Eggsy. “I’m starting to worry about the fate of the world.”

Eggsy glared at him. “Fuck off, yeah?”

He shoved up, disentangling his legs, and threw on the nearest clothes available. He gave his jeans a whiff to make sure they weren’t rank, before he tugged them on. He laid out some more cereal for J.B. to eat and grabbed an apple for himself.

“Pick up some real food before you come home!” J.B. shouted after Eggsy as he flew out the door.

Luckily Eggsy was only five minutes late for class. He staggered into the room, his book bag hanging from his arm. Wisps of hair fell into his eyes, clinging to his sweaty forehead. The entire class turned to look at him. Eggsy swallowed the last bite of apple, which sat heavily in his throat, and tossed the core into the waste basket by the door. “Sorry,” Eggsy panted.

Professor Hart coughed in his hand, his brown eyes—they weren’t really brown, Eggsy thought, but rather the soft tone of perfectly steeped tea—unreadable behind his glasses. Eggsy really wished he hadn’t eaten that apple, because it was now rotting away in the pit of his stomach. He tugged the strap of his satchel up his shoulder and flashed what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

“Tardiness often robs us of opportunity,” Professor Hart said, his smooth voice as deep and rich as a pint of Guinness. “Do you know who said that, Mr. Unwin?”

Eggsy straightened his posture, chin tipped up. “Machiavelli, sir.”

The corners of Professor Hart’s mouth twitched. Eggsy wasn’t sure if it was the light reflecting off his glasses, but he swore he saw an amused twinkle in Professor Hart’s eyes.

“Very good. Perhaps next time you shall remember this and have enough self-discipline to arrive to class on time.” Eggsy flushed. He raked his mind for a good excuse, but he couldn’t exactly say he was late because he spent the night fighting monsters. That would get him a one way ticket to the loony bin. Professor Hart raised an eyebrow and gestured to an open seat at the front. “You can take a seat now Mr. Unwin, so that we may begin the exam”

Eggsy’s entire face was on fire, he just knew it. He hurried to the nearest free spot—right next to Charlie Hesketh. Eggsy pulled out a pencil, ignoring the smirk Charlie shot him, and focused on Professor Hart.

“Busy night on Smith Street, Eggy?” Charlie whispered.

Eggsy tightened his grip on his pen. “Yeah, tell yer father thanks for a great night,” Eggsy whispered back, not breaking eye contact with Professor Hart.

“You have the entirety of the period to complete your exams,” Professor Hart said. “When you’re finished, place them on my desk. You may leave when you’re done. Remember that your papers are due this Saturday. You may begin.”

Eggsy started to scribble out his answers, trying to focus on the questions. He’d left his brain somewhere back in bed and his sluggish mind still hadn’t caught up with him. His vision started to grow unfocused as he went down the exam. Occasionally Eggsy looked up at the clock, his blood pressure spiking each time another minute ticked by or he heard a page turn.

Charlie finished before he did. He shot Eggsy a smug smirk as he picked up the exam and brought it over to Professor Hart, who lounged behind his desk, observing the class with the silent severity of a benevolent king.

Professor Hart nodded to Charlie as he laid the paper down and left. Eggsy licked his lips and turned back to his exam. _Focus._

Easier said than done, especially when Professor Hart stood and started to pace the class room. Eggsy’s gaze tracked him, thoughts wandering away from the bubonic plague and to how delicious Professor Hart looked in his bespoke suit.

Professor Hart moved like a panther between the aisles, all predatory grace and agility. The suit jacket he wore accentuated his narrow waist, and his legs—oh fuck, his legs. Eggsy kept getting distracted by Professor Hart’s legs. They’d had the starring role in many of his fantasies.

What would it be like to have those legs wrapped around him? Or for those legs to be bracing him? He wondered which Professor Hart would prefer. Maybe he’d rather have Eggsy bent over his desk, trousers and pants pooled around his ankles. Anyone would be able to walk into the classroom. Professor Hart would clamp his hand around Eggsy’s mouth to stifle his moans as he slowly worked him open, one digit at a time. He bet Professor Hart was filthy in bed—he tried to act like a gentleman, and he was, but every now and then Eggsy caught a devilish twinkle in his eye, one that promised all kinds of mischief. Maybe he was a talker. Whispering dirty sweet nothings into Eggsy’s ear as he split him apart on his massive—

“Mr. Unwin,” Professor Hart asked, suddenly standing next to Eggsy. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Eggsy swallowed thickly, shifting in his seat to hide his achingly hard cock. “No, I’m good,” Eggsy whispered, dropping his gaze and hunkering over his half-finished exam.

Eggsy finished the exam with two minutes to spare. He gathered his things and dropped the test off on Professor Hart’s desk before he made a beeline for the door. He’d love to go home and nap, but he had to get to work. He looked back over his shoulder, catching Professor Hart’s stare. Professor Hart tipped his head in acknowledgment, the light seeping through the window catching the golden highlights in his soft honey brown hair. Eggsy was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to comb his fingers through the downy locks—preferably while he was riding Professor Hart.

Eggsy looked away, ignoring the rapid fluttering of his pulse, and stepped out of the classroom.

“Eggsy?”

He turned around to see who was calling his name. Leaning against the wall next to the entrance was Roxy Morton. She frequented Morton’s Tailor Shop, the niece of Mr. Morton’s—Percival’s, Eggsy’s brain immediately supplied. Her blond hair was pulled out of her face in a tight ponytail. Eggsy got the oddest feeling he’d seen her before, somewhere other than the tailor shop.

The connection clicked.

“Lancelot,” Eggsy gasped.

Roxy pushed off the wall. “I always knew you were sharper than you looked. I’ll walk with you to work.”

Before Eggsy could argue, she wrapped her arm around his and steered him down the hall.

“How’d the exam go?” Roxy asked.

Eggsy groaned, head thrown back. “Don’t ask.”

Roxy laughed, but it wasn’t condescending. Eggsy couldn’t help but smile at her, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. There was something familiar in her presence, and Eggsy had a feeling it had to do with his connection to Guinevere. Maybe Roxy would be able to clue him in on what was really going on.


	3. Hello, Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival deals with a flirtatious customer. Eggsy finally gets an explanation as to whats going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter* Ahahahaha... yeah, I'm sorry it took so long to update this! I got swamped with other fic things and school, and yeah... CRAZY LIFE. But, I'm going to try to get this on a regular updating schedule.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I know I don't always reply to comments, but I read each one and I love hearing from all of you!
> 
> This is self-betaed because I got a little impatient and just wanted to get it out (plus I didn't want to make you wait any longer), so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Also, if anyone is a fan of Sailor Moon (which I'm assuming you all are, or at least of the magical girl genre) then I hope you enjoy the cheese that is this fic, because oh man is it magical girl cheese.

            “We can’t ask him to join us, to get involved,” Robyn said, and even as the words left his mouth, he knew his argument was void. No matter how much Robyn wanted to protect Eggsy, the fact remained that he _was_ Guinevere, and the fate of the world was far more important than preserving Eggsy’s innocence. But that didn’t stop Robyn’s stomach from cramping up.

            “It’s not our decision,” Merlin pointed out, and he was right, of course. “Fate decided. All we can do is train him.”

            Robyn glowered at the mannequin in the front window. It was dressed in a green velvet smoking jacket with ornately embroidered lapels. “You’re right… I just…”

            “I know. I’m surprised as well. But we need him.” Merlin took a sip of tea. He was dressed in a comfy looking green jumper with suede shoulder pads.  He didn’t look like the Kingsman agent he was—a fierce fighter and computer genius—but rather a fifty year-old librarian. “The Nega-Syndicate is getting more audacious, and the number of Nega-Fiend attacks has nearly doubled in the area. They’re tripling their efforts to find the Silver Excalibur.”

            It was true. It seemed that more and more people were falling into the Nega-Syndicate’s net, their hearts being swayed towards the shadows. Everyone had the potential for darkness, but most humans had enough light in them, enough _goodness_ , that the blight that lingered in the far corners of their hearts never spread. But there were few—those burdened by tragedy and overwhelmed with negative emotions—who succumbed to their darker inhibitions. Those were the people that the Nega-Syndicate preyed on.

            And it seemed that more and more people were becoming victims. Perhaps it was the state the world had found its self. Robyn couldn’t turn on the news or read a paper without being confronted by the latest disaster.

            “Well now that we have—” Robyn snapped his mouth shut as the shop door opened, the small bell above chiming. His heart stumbled, crashing into the wall of his ribcage, and tumbling backwards in his chest. He coughed, immediately turning and busying himself with something on the counter.

            He could feel Merlin’s gaze burning the back of his head, and he knew the bastard was smirking, but Robyn pretended not to notice, instead resolutely focusing on the paperweight next to computer.

            “Hello,” Merlin greeted.

            “Good afternoon,” A warm-sensuous-melted butter-God did Robyn want to hear it in a moan-voice responded. Robyn’s shoulders stiffened. His heart picked its self up, dusted off, and then proceeded to vibrate. “Hello, little bird.”

            Robyn swallowed thickly. He forced himself to turn and face his customer, berating himself internally for acting so childish. He was thirty-eight, not eighteen. He was a well-distinguished tailor, not some wet-eared babe who’d never seen a sinfully gorgeous man before.

            “Hello Mr. Spencer,” Robyn said, smoothly. Points for him.

            James Spencer was perhaps his most important client. Not because he was rich (though he did seem to have a ridiculous amount of money), nor because he bought a large sum of suits from Robyn (though he did purchase at least three new suits a month). No, he was Robyn’s most important client because he was simply _James Spencer_ , and Robyn was pathetically and helplessly tits-over-arse in love with him.

            “I’m in the market for a new suit,” James said, coming around a table displaying bolts of fabric, and stopping in front of the counter. He was dressed in one of Robyn’s bespoke suits. It was a creamy tan, the color of marzipan, with faint hunter green gridding, and a matching waist coat. He wore a white shirt beneath with a similar gridded pattern, and a solid hunter green tie. On anyone else, the suit would have looked absurd, even ostentatious, but on James it looked lovely. It was one of Robyn’s favorites—though he wouldn’t admit it.

            “Didn’t you just get a new suit, Mr. Spencer?” Robyn asked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin observing them, not even bothering to hide his smirk. Robyn shot him a glare. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be, Alec?”

            “No, it got canceled, remember?” Merlin took a sip of tea.

            _Bastard_.

            “James,” James said.

            “What?” Robyn looked back at James.

            “I’ve told you, call me James.” He smiled, and Robyn had to mentally will his cells not to melt. He felt like he was completely coming apart and all James had done was _smile_ at him.

            “Of course, Mr. Spencer,” Robyn said, purposely not calling him James. He needed to keep things professional. Business-like.

            James’s smile grew, laughter brightening his honeyed-brown eyes. “And you’re right, I did. But I have an event I’m going to and I thought, why not get a new suit for the occasion?”

            “Surely you have plenty,” Robyn said, unable to help himself. His services didn’t come cheap. Off the rack alone, his lowest priced piece was over two-thousand pounds.

            “You know, usually it’s not a good idea to try and dissuade the customer from making a purchase,” James teased.

            Robyn fought back a flush and shrugged in response. “I’m not trying to dissuade you. I’d be more than happy to make you another—all I was doing was pointing out that you should have plenty to already choose from.”

            “But they’ve all been seen before,” James said. “And I like to arrive in style.”

            Robyn couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course he did. James was the definition of pomp and circumstance. He was all flash, with a dazzling smile, a razor sharp wit, and a style that rivaled Yves Saint Laurent.

            “What is the event?” Robyn asked.

            “Dinner,” James said, adding smoothly, “With you.”

            Robyn stared at him, amazed that James could keep a straight face. Merlin choked on his tea. Robyn shot Merlin a glare, and then, flustered, said to James, “Not funny.”

            “I wasn’t teasing.” James’s register dropped to a sultry note, cascading small tremors down Robyn’s spine. Oh, he could easily forget himself in James’s voice.

            _Pull yourself together, Robyn._

            Dating James—no matter how gorgeous, how funny, how abso-fucking-lutely perfect he was—wasn’t an option. James was a notorious flirt. He shamelessly teased Robyn every time he came into the shop. Granted it wasn’t usually so bold, but if James was anything, he was always full of surprises.

            No, James just wasn’t an option. He’d get tired of boring old Robyn in a few hours. And Robyn wasn’t exactly at a place in his life where he could afford to go out—what with trying to save the world and all.

            Robyn crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you weren’t. Now if you could answer my question? Truthfully this time.”

            James pursed his mouth in a pout, before sighing despondently. “I’ll win you over one day, little bird.”

            “Stop calling me that.”

            “But it suits you.”

            “Out,” Robyn said, pointing to the door, his eyebrow twitching.

            James held his hands up defenselessly. “I’ll stop.”

            “You two bicker like a married couple,” Merlin said from behind the counter.

            “Oh, shut up you,” Robyn snapped, then to James, “What is the event?”

            “Just a charity thing. You know the drill. Droves of highbrows, cloyingly sweet champagne, and Johann Strauss on repeat.” James paused, chin pointed up as if he suddenly were balancing something on his head, and stared at the ceiling in exasperation. “Dreadfully boring.” He looked back down at Robyn. “I believe it’s at an art gala—you wouldn’t happen to enjoy those, would you?”

            Ignoring his question, Robyn moved over to the fabric. “Is it black tie?”

            “No, thank god.”

            Robyn held up two bolts of fabric, one a warm charcoal gray with a very faint herringboning, and the other a solid deep navy. “Which one do you like?”

            “Don’t you need to take my measurements?” The question was far too innocent.

            “No,” Robyn deadpanned. He was well familiar with the length of James’s inseam.

            James pouted again, but nodded to the herringbone fabric. “It has more character.”

            “When is the event?” Robyn asked.

            “Not for a few weeks.” James lingered by the table, a few feet from Robyn. He inspected one of the bolts—a brown, tan, and red Madras pattern from Burberry—and picked at an invisible piece of lint. “My offer still stands if you change your mind—did I mention the champagne?”

            “You did, and my answer is still no,” Robyn said. He placed the fabric behind the counter and rung James up. He held his hand out. “Your card, Mr. Spencer.”

            “You are cruel, little bird.” James handed over his black credit card.

            Robyn swiped it, humming in response—he chose not to acknowledge the pet name. The door to the tailor shop swung open and Roxy walked in, Eggsy behind her. Robyn glanced over at Merlin, who nodded minutely, then handed James his card back. “I’ll contact you when your suit is ready. Thank you for your business.”

            James looked over at Roxy and Eggsy, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He put his card away. He didn’t leave immediately like Robyn wanted him to. Instead he took Robyn’s hand in his, bent at the waist, and delicately brushed his soft lips over Robyn’s knuckles. Sparks shot up Robyn’s arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

            “Till next time, little bird,” James said. He released Robyn’s hand, and Robyn kept it held up, fingers still curved as if James was holding it. James smiled at him, and damn it, Robyn’s breath hitched. He left, nodding in acknowledgement to Eggsy and Roxy.

            Once the door closed behind him, Roxy hit the lock. Eggsy grinned at Robyn, waggling his eyebrows. “When y’ going to throw that bloke a bone, bruv? He’s bonkers for y’, y’ know.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Robyn murmured dismissively, hand still up. “He’s just a flirt, no better than a rake from a penny dreadful. And I’m certainly not interested in him.”

            “Really? Cause you’ve been holding yer hand like that for about five minutes now.”

            Robyn dropped his hand and blinked, snapping his gaze to Eggsy, who smirked triumphantly at him. Robyn rubbed his hand on his pant leg, and then grumbled, “Yes, well… never mind that. We have more important things to tend to.”

            Eggsy and Roxy shared a private smirk. “If you say so uncle,” Roxy said. “Shall we begin?”

            “Begin wot?” That distracted Eggsy.

            “I think it’s time we bring you up to speed on what’s going on,” Merlin said. “Come on, this way.”

* * * *

            Eggsy wasn’t sure where they were taking him, especially since he knew this shop as if it were his own home. He spent more time here, so it could technically be his second home. Merlin led him into fitting room three. Eggsy looked around, then said, “Uh, bruv? I hate to break it to y’, but this is a fitting room. We gonna have our secret meeting here?”

            He wasn’t even going to let himself consider the fact that he was actually having a secret meeting.

            Merlin glanced at Eggsy, and though his expression didn’t change, Eggsy got the distinct feeling that he was smirking at him. Merlin pressed his hand against the center mirror. It lit up, reading his palm.

            Eggsy jumped back. “Shit!”

            Robyn grabbed his arm. The room gave a great shudder and started to descend down into the ground. “W-wot the… fucking ‘ell! Are y’ fucking pissing me? This real? Has this always been able to do this?”

            “Yes,” Robyn said, letting go of Eggsy’s arm. There was the slightest twinkle in his eyes. “Of course, only Roxy, Alec, and I can activate it. We’ll update the system for your biometrics.”

            Eggsy turned slowly around the cramped room. Gray concrete slipped past them as they sunk lower and lower into the bowels of the tailor shop. “How deep does this thing go?”

            “Deep enough,” Merlin answered behind him.

            Eggsy scoffed, but didn’t comment further. He moved over to the mirror and inspected it, tapping at the glass to see if anything else would light up. It looked like a normal mirror. There wasn’t anything fancy about it other than its ornate frame.

            “Fuck me,” Eggsy murmured to himself.

            The fitting room slowed to a halt. Automatic metal doors opened to a vast white room dominated by a computer. Sitting at the large, circular monitor—which honestly looked like it belonged in a science fiction novel—in a swivel chair, was J.B.

            “Wot the fuck? How the ‘ell did y’ get here?” Eggsy demanded, stumbling out of the lift. He turned around in a full circle as he made his way over to the pug, looking at all the blinking lights and monitors. He didn’t know where he wanted to rest his eyes. Every time he turned he spotted something new in his peripheral.

            “Did you think I’d just sit in your apartment and wait for you?” J.B. did a huffing wheeze, which Eggsy took as a scoff. “Afraid not. I have more important things to do than play lap dog.”

            Eggsy scratched him by the ear, and J.B. immediately turned into the touch. “Whatever y’ say, guv,” Eggsy murmured distractedly, staring up at the large monitor the pug had been looking at It dominated the wall, about half the size of a movie theater screen. “Wots this?”

            Up on the screen was a map of London, scattered with flickering dots. The arbitrary smattering of dots was shapeless, clumped together in different boroughs, but all together covering a greater portion of the city. There were over twenty marks.

            “This is the updated map of all Nega-Fiend attacks,” J.B. said. He typed something into the panel, and the screen zeroed in on Greens Park. “That was last night’s attack.”

            Eggsy stared at the screen, then slowly looked around the room, taking in all of the computers and servers, Roxy and Merlin, Robyn and J.B., and then slowly wheeled a chair over and sunk into it. “This is real, ain’t it? I mean, I know it’s real… but, like I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, that this is just one of ‘em long dreams or sumfin. But the deeper all of this goes, the more I’m realizing and… _fuck_ , wot he said last night was right, ain’t it? I’m that… that bird, that queen—queen—”

            “Guinevere,” Roxy supplied.

            “Yeah, her.” Eggsy swallowed thickly. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some drug-induced illusion. This wasn’t anything but reality, a little warped, but still reality. He removed his hat and carded his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

            He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for ten seconds, before exhaling slowly from his mouth. When he opened his eyes, he felt somewhat put together, enough to deal with…whatever _this_ was, and said, “Okay. Let’s hold off on…” He waved behind him at the map. “All that.”

            Robyn looked at him sympathetically, and all it did was make him feel like a child that just couldn’t seem to grasp multiplication. “I know it’s a lot to take in. The memories can come in fast, and it’s overwhelming, but we’re all here for you, Eggsy.”

            “Memories? Wot memories?”

            Robyn glanced at Merlin and Roxy, then said, “Your original memories. The ones of your life on Neo-Camelot, as Guinevere.”

            “Look bruv, don’t know wot yer talking about, but I don’t got any of them memories.”

            “I was afraid of this,” J.B. said next to him.

Of all the things that seemed the easiest to accept, it was the talking pug. Maybe Eggsy was already a few steps shy from the loony bin.

            “What is it?” Roxy asked. She crossed her arms over her chest.

            “He hasn’t fully awakened yet.” J.B. sighed, or at least Eggsy thought he did. It was more of a wheeze again, but the idea got across.

            “Oi, wot do you mean not fully awakened?”

            “Your powers have been activated, but a wall is still blocking your memories of your former self,” J.B. said—was that with a hint of condensation? “This can happen. It’s happened in the past, during some of your other forms.”

            “How do we break down the wall?” Merlin was focused on Eggsy. He was the only one Eggsy couldn’t get a read on, and it was quite unnerving to be the focal point of the taller man’s cold stare.

            “You can’t. It has to happen naturally. Something will trigger it. But all we can do is wait.”

            “Great,” Eggsy grumbled. “So one day I’m going to be walking down the street and—wham! I get punched in the face by a fistful of memories?”

            “Well, it most likely won’t be so abrupt like that. In the past there was always something that triggered you. Sometimes companions. Sometimes your transformation. Most of the time? We found Arthur.”

            Eggsy held his hands up. “Wait, hold on just a minute. Arthur, the king we’re supposed to be looking for? Y’ mean we’ve found ‘em before? Then why are we still, y’ know, doing all this?”

            J.B.’s expression grew grim and he looked away. He didn’t have to say why they were caught in an endless loop of reincarnations. Eggsy’s throat thickened up with unnamed emotions. Sadness swept through him, as bitter and frigid as an arctic wind, and for a second he wanted to crumple in on himself.

            “Oh,” Eggsy whispered. “I see.”

            J.B. shifted in his seat. He gave a small yip. “That isn’t important anymore. What _is_ important is now.”

            Eggsy shook off the melancholy that overtook him, though traces of it clung to his heart like cobwebs. “Right, okay. Let’s start from the beginning. Why don’t y’ explain to me who Guinevere and everyone is, and wot or where the hell this Neo-Camelot is.”

            “Merlin, you’re the historian,” Roxy said, smiling. Merlin glanced away, the first sign of emotion flickering across his face—was that a blush Eggsy saw?

            “Right, lad. I know this is a lot, but listen closely,” Merlin said, any traces of a rosy tint to his cheeks vanishing. Eggsy swiveled his chair around to face Merlin. “J.B. told you what we are; we’re the Kingsman, an elite military group that was in charge of protecting the King and Queen. Kingsman has served the royal family for hundreds of years. It was our job to ensure your safety at all cost, and until the Darkness came, we did our job with the highest of standards.”

            “So where is Neo-Camelot? Why haven’t I heard of it before?”

            “Because it isn’t a land found here on earth,” Merlin said. Eggsy’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t know why it surprised him, nothing about this should anymore. “Neo-Camelot is the moon kingdom. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were—and are—the guardians of the Moon and its planet, Earth.”

            “Right, of course. Makes sense.” And the scary part was, it did. “And I’m Queen Guinevere, right? So wot happened? Wot exactly is this Darkness y’ guys keep talking about?”

            “The Darkness was the war that the False King brought upon Neo-Camelot. Queen Guinevere was an Earthian child. Her marriage to King Arthur united the two kingdoms and brought peace to the realms. But, The False King, King Arthur’s uncle, wanted to rule. He brought war upon the land, stirring hatred and animosity, until the people of Earth rebelled against the Moon.”

            Eggsy reached into the far recesses of his mind, tried to pull the memories of that war, of that malevolent time, but he found nothing. It was like hitting a brick wall. He kept beating, but it held firm, solidly blocking all memories of his former life.

             “Long story short, bad shit happened and we all died. Am I right?” Eggsy asked.

            Merlin glared at him, not amused. “Yes.”

            “Multiple reincarnations later, here we are. Right back to where we’ve been, chasing after this king. So why’s he so important?”

            “Because he is the One True King,” Merlin said, a touch of reverence thickening his brogue. “He will restore Neo-Camelot and once more unite the two realms.”

            “But he can only do that with the… Silver Excalibur?” Eggsy thought he was starting to get it. Sure, it played out like a fantasy novel, but at this point he was done questioning reality.

            “Correct. The Silver Excalibur grants King Arthur his power. Before his death, King Arthur hid the crystal. No one knows where he sent it, and for centuries we’ve searched.”

            “And now the Nega-Syndicate is searching for it,” J.B. barked.

            “Who the fuck are they?”

            “We don’t know,” Roxy confessed. “They appeared a few months ago. They materialized out of nowhere.”

            “Do you remember that lunar eclipse in July?” Robyn asked.

            “Yeah, everyone freaked out about it cause it wasn’t supposed to happen. People claimed in the world and all that nonsense.”

            “They appeared the night of the eclipse. We believe they’re connected to the eclipse, but we don’t know for sure. We’ve never actually seen any of them. But we know they’re hunting for the Silver Excalibur.”

            “And that Nega-Fiend from last night, that was a person right? They did that to her?”

            “Yes. They feed on the darkness in our hearts. Everyone has the potential for goodness or badness, but for the most part, the light outweighs the darkness in our hearts. Some are born with Heart Crystals, crystals of immense power, filled with radiant light,” Robyn explained. “We believe that the Nega-Syndicate is stealing these crystals in their pursuit of the Silver Excalibur and using them to feed their odious schemes. When they remove a Heart Crystal, they leave a person with nothing but darkness and hatred. For those that are already suffering and struggling with the darkness, it warps their emotions and transforms them into that monster you saw.”

            Eggsy tried to absorb everything. His brain felt like it had been shoved full of cotton balls. He rubbed at his temples, wincing at the headache building, and said, “Right. So let me see if I understand the situation. We have no idea where King Arthur is, or where the Silver Excalibur is, and there are no clues to help us, and there’s also this Nega-Syndicate going around stealing peoples’ hearts and turning them into monsters, and they’re after King Arthur and the Silver Excalibur too. And to top it all off, we also don’t have any clue as to where this group is or who they are?”

            “Yes,” J.B. said.

            “So wot yer telling me is that were complete and utterly fucked.”

            “Not exactly,” Robyn said. “We found you, and for the first time we were able to restore a human to their original self. I say that’s a step in the right direction.”

            Eggsy slumped back in his chair. “Way to look on the bright side of things, bruv.”


	4. You're Late, Mr. Unwin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious man enters the battle.

            A week had passed without incident since Eggsy learned he was Guinevere, queen of Neo-Camelot and champion of Kingsman. Other than a talking pug and the occasional secret meeting beneath the tailor shop he worked at, his day-to-day life didn’t change too much; he still attended classes, still met up with his mates Jamal and Ryan for a pint, and till dreamed about being bent over a desk and fucked raw by Professor Hart.

            “Don’t understand why y’ got a dog, babe,” Eggsy’s mum said. He’d come over for Sunday dinner. Eggsy paused in feeding his little sister Daisy and looked down at J.B., who looked up at the table with hopeful eyes. “You’re always working and busy with school, how do y’ have time for the pup?”

            “Didn’t really have much of a choice, mum,” Eggsy said with a dismissive shrug. He popped the spoonful of baby food into Daisy’s open mouth and then dropped a piece of roast onto the floor for J.B.

            “Eggsy,” his mum scolded. “Don’t feed ‘em at the table. He’ll start begging.”

            Somehow Eggsy didn’t think J.B. would be okay with him trying to discipline him. “Sorry mum.” Eggsy said.

            “How’s classes going?” Michelle cut into a piece of her roast, smiling across the table at him.

            They’d come a long way over the years. After Eggsy’s dad died, there’d been a period when Eggsy’s existence had been narrowed to a single fist. Michelle had gotten mixed up with a bad lot in her desperation to not only provide for her son, but find some comfort in the cold and cruel world. The monster known as Dean Baker had swooped in, masquerading as a knight in shining armor, a real prince among the paupers, and charmed his way into their lives.

            It had been golden at first. Dean had been a decent bloke, giving Eggsy toys, taking Michelle out and treating her like the lady she was. But after a few months all that changed. It was as if someone had hit a light switch inside Dean’s head, and everything that had made him good and kind had been turned off.

            That’s when the beatings started. First with Eggsy’s mum, and then when Eggsy learned he could protect her, Eggsy started getting them.

            It wasn’t until Michelle was pregnant with Daisy that she managed to pull herself together and leave Dean. Eggsy had been in the marines at the time and left when he found out. He knew his mum would need him, especially if she really meant to leave the bastard. Now, two and a half years later, Michelle lived in a small apartment close to Jamal’s mum, and, as luck would have it, Dean had landed himself in the clink.

            “Good,” Eggsy said. Michelle opened her mouth to ask something else, but she was cut off by a beeping noise. It took Eggsy a second to realize it was coming from his pocket.

            “Wot’s that? Your phone?” Michelle asked. Daisy reached out with pear-smeared fingers, making a grabby motion for the spoon. Eggsy popped it in her mouth.

“Yeah,” Eggsy said. “Hold on mum, I gotta get this.”

            “Y’ know y’ ain’t supposed to have any of that at the table, we’re having dinner,” Michelle reprimanded, but nodded her head with a sigh when Eggsy looked at her pleadingly. The beeping continued.

            Eggsy exited the kitchen, rounding the corner and going down the hall a good distance to put himself out of earshot from his mother. A few seconds later, he heard the clicking of small claws against the floor. J.B. stopped at his feet and looked up at him. He didn’t talk, but Eggsy could see the question in his round brown eyes.

            Eggsy slipped out of his pocket a glass case and opened it up. The beeping got louder. Eggsy put on the black-rimmed glasses and touched the right side of the frames. J.B. had given the glasses to him after his first meeting with Kingsman.

            “They’re a communicator,” he explained, when Eggsy had looked at him questioningly. Honestly, Eggsy was more curious on how J.B. could materialize these things, than what they really were.

            As soon as he touched the frames, the lenses were replaced with the image of Merlin. Eggsy blinked. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the change.

            “Wot’s going on?” Eggsy asked once his vision cleared.

            “A Nega-Fiend appeared, Guinevere. It’s down at Kingsley University and you’re the closes. Percival and Lancelot are unavailable, but I’ll meet you there,” Merlin said.

            “Right. On my way.” The image of Merlin vanished, and Eggsy put his glasses away. He looked down at J.B. and said, “Nega-Fiend appeared. We gotta go.”

            Eggsy popped around the corner. His mum had moved over to his spot and taken over feeding Daisy. She turned to him, worry creasing her brow, and asked, “Everything okay, babe?”

            “Everything’s great mum, but I gotta go. Mr. Morton called and he needs me down at the shop.”

            “That’s a shame. Hope it’s nufin too bad.” She frowned. “He always call y’ this late?”

            “Mum,” Eggsy said with an eye roll.

            “Right, sorry. Yer an adult. I just worry yer working too hard, that’s all.”

            “Sorry to eat in run. Dinner was good. Love y’,” Eggsy called over his shoulder, already running out the door. The door slammed behind him. J.B. huffed at his feet, keeping pace as Eggsy bolted down the stairs and out onto the street. They had some distance to cover in order to reach the university. “Y’ know, y’ should really see about that whole bat mobile thing.”

            “I’ll get on it,” J.B. wheezed. Eggsy had a feeling he was being sarcastic.

            Eggsy rounded the corner of a nearby ally. He checked to make sure no one was around, and then threw up his hand and cried, “MANNERS MAKETH MAN!”

            Moonbeams shot from the pendent draped around his neck and wrapped him in an ethereal cocoon. The shift felt like he’d slipped into a wormhole and was caught between planes of existence. Light overwhelmed him, became a part of him. Visceral kinetic energy coursed through his body. When the shimmering radiance cleared, Eggsy had transformed into his suit.

            Eggsy straightened his tie. “Okay, come on,” he said to J.B., and left the ally.

* * * *

            Eggsy didn’t so much as find the monster, as it found him. It crashed through a stone archway leading into a court yard on campus, sending small boulders of limestone flying. Eggsy jumped out of the way, narrowly dodging the Nega-Fiend as it barreled into the grass and straight for a length of sycamores.

            Merlin helped Eggsy to his feet. Sweat glistened on his forehead, making his smooth scalp shiny. “This one’s a strong one. We may have to weaken her before she’ll change back.”

            “Where are Percival and Lancelot?” Eggsy asked.

            “Family dinner at the estate. They’re out of London I’m afraid,” Merlin said. If he was upset, it didn’t show. He slipped into a defensive position, facing the monster. “Here she comes!”

            The Nega-Fiend was worse than the last one, Eggsy decided. Instead of a spider, this one seemed to be a splicing of a centipede and a woman. Her long body gleamed in the moonlight. Polished exoskeleton covered her wasp-thin waist and breasts. Her long white hair billowed in the breeze like spiderwebs. Eggsy didn’t know what unnerved him the most—her hundreds of legs and long body, or the fact that her face was nothing more than two glowing red eyes and a wide Cheshire grin filled with razor sharp teeth. Where the fuck was her nose?

            The Nega-Fiend barreled towards them, a freight train on a hundred spindly legs, her curled mouth gaping open. Not sure what to do, Eggsy jumped out of the way. He hit the ground with a grunt and turned around to watch Merlin throw his hand up, palm glowing a deep blue.

“Rushing Deluge!”

            A giant tidal wave materialized out of thin air behind him. It rose up, frothy white cap hissing, and crashed down on the Nega-Fiend. Her body twisted, washed across the ground and slammed into the row of trees, splintering one of the trunks.

            Eggsy scrambled to his feet. “Fuck,” he gasped.

            J.B. barked behind him. “Help, you idiot!”

            “With wot?” Eggsy shouted at the pug. “All I can do is that—healing thing!”

            "Shout Guinevere Kick!”

            The Nega-Fiend picked herself up, water dripping down her black body, and hissed at them. All Merlin’s attack did was further incense her.

            “I hope this works,” Eggsy grumbled to himself. He ran at the Nega-Fiend, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and shouted, “Guinevere Kick!”

            He felt a surge of power rise up inside him. He leapt into the air, drawing his legs up and out in a running kick. He didn’t reach the Nega-Fiend, though. She swung her lower half around and slammed her long body into Eggsy.

            He hit the ground and skid across the lawn, getting a mouthful of grass. Eggsy spit out clumps of dirt with a groan. “Shit, that fucking hurt.” His head felt like he just got off a carousel going at full speed.

            “Guinevere, watch out!” Merlin yelled as J.B. barked, “Get up!”

            Eggsy turned. He didn’t have time to react. The Nega-Fiend was on him, her jaw descended wide and her teeth glistening with saliva.

            “Whispering—” Merlin started to shout, but he was cut off by a loud, “Golden Bomb!”

            Something small and metallic hit the Nega-Fiend and exploded. The flash temporarily blinded Eggsy. He threw a hand up to shield his eyes, the heat of the explosion whooshing against his face.

            When his vision cleared, the Nega-Fiend was several feet away, body horribly burned, and a tall man in a suit stood in front of Eggsy. The Nega-Fiend tried to pick herself up, long arms trembling from the exertion of lifting her torso off the ground.

            “A true gentleman cherishes the woman on his arm as if she is the most beautiful rose,” The man stated, his words as smooth and rich as caramel. The man’s back to Eggsy. He was tall, with legs that went on for days, and he held a sleek black umbrella at his side like a cane. “A man that doesn’t is never a man worth crying over.”

            “Wot the fuck?” Eggsy said, pushing himself off the ground.

            The man turned to look at Eggsy. Eggsy’s breath hitched, his heart squealing to a stop. _Fucking hell._ Most of his features were hidden by a black mask, but from what Eggsy could see—an aristocratic nose, an angled but slightly softened jawline, and a mouth designed for sinning—made Eggsy’s brain completely shut down. Brown hair was swept out of his face, only a single strand defying the mold and curling along his forehead. He didn’t have on a suit, but a pair of black dress trousers with a blue velvet smoking jacket and a black tie. On anyone else it would have been fucking ridiculous, but on him, it looked aces.

            For a few seconds all Eggsy could think about was how much he wanted to see what was hidden inside those trousers. His thoughts snapped back to reality when the man held his hand out and said, “I believe it’s your turn, Guinevere.”

            Eggsy opened and closed his mouth, rewiring his brain. He grabbed the man’s hand. The man hauled Eggsy to his feet with little effort. Eggsy restrained a shiver of delight—well those were some surprisingly strong arms—and turned to the Nega-Fiend, who struggled to pick herself back up.

            Eggsy held his hand out and shouted, “Cheer Escalation!”

            The golden egg appeared, and after a lovely spin, Eggsy threw it at the Nega-Fiend. It popped open, a shower of stardust and moonbeams, and coated the monster in golden dust. The Nega-Fiend’s body radiated light. When the glow died, an unconscious woman replaced the monster.

            Merlin rushed over to the woman, crouching down beside her and checking her vitals. “She’s alive.”

            Eggsy turned to the man. “Who are y’? Are y’ one of the Kingsman?”

            “No,” The man said.

            When he didn’t supply any further answer, Eggsy pressed, “Then… who are y’?”

            The man studied Eggsy. His mouth quirked up in the slightest impression of a smile. “Galahad.”

            “Well, Galahad, thanks for the help.” Eggsy held his hand out. “I owe y’, bruv.”

            “Guinevere, I need to get her to a hospital,” Merlin said.

            Eggsy looked over his shoulder to Merlin. “Right, I’m coming.” He turned back to Galahad and froze. Galahad had vanished. A rustling from the trees caught Eggsy’s attention. He looked up to Galahad gliding over the rooftops.

            “Blimey,” Eggsy murmured, then shook his head and hurried over to Merlin. “Okay, let’s go.”

* * * *

            He couldn’t believe he was late _again_. But it wasn’t his fault! After the debacle with the Nega-Fiend, he and Merlin brought the woman to the hospital. By the time that Eggsy made it back to his apartment and taken a shower, it was after midnight and a bone-deep exhaustion had settled inside Eggsy. The kind of dead tired that burrows deep in your marrow and turns your body into a lead weight. He would have thought falling asleep would have been easy, but instead he had laid away for the next three hours, replaying the events in his head—more specifically replaying the vision of Galahad standing over him.

            Eggsy eventually fell asleep, only to be woken up rudely by J.B. yelling at him and his alarm blaring incessantly.

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eggsy panted, skidding to a stop in front of the door. He took a minute to straighten his clothes, readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and smoothing out his hair. He drew in a deep breath, then opened the door and crept in.

            “Late again, Mr. Unwin,” Professor Hart announced.

            Eggsy froze. A lecture hall full of students turned to look at him. Eggsy glanced sheepishly up at them through his eyelashes, and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry Professor, I…” Over slept because I was fighting off a monster? Yeah, somehow he didn’t think that excuse would fly.

            “Punctuality is the politeness of kings,” Professor Hart stated. “King Louis the Eighteenth.”

            “Yes Professor, but y’ see…”

            “A gentleman does not make excuses for his actions; he takes responsibility for his choices. See me after class, Mr. Unwin.”

            Shit. Eggsy’s stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes Professor.”

             “Now, if you would be so kind as to take your seat.” Professor Hart gestured to the available spot next to Charlie.

            Eggsy groaned internally and took his seat. His bag slipped from his arm and hit the floor with a thump. Charlie shot him a smug look and whispered, “Another long night on your knees? Perhaps one day you’ll learn where your place is and stay on them.”

            “Is there anything you’d like to share with the class, Mr. Hesketh?” Professor Hart snapped. His usually warm molten brown eyes had turned cold, their honeyed color darkened into the deepness of old coffee, grown bitter and sour. Even though his stare wasn’t directed at Eggsy, a bolt of fear lanced through his stomach.

            Charlie shifted away from Eggsy, flushed, and said, “No Professor.”

            “Are you sure? Because it seemed that you had something important to discuss with Mr. Unwin,” Professor continued. Eggsy slumped lower in his seat, wanting to melt into the floor.

            “I—I” Charlie stammered.

            “Have you heard the term ‘manners maketh man’, Mr. Hesketh?” Professor Hart approached Charlie’s desk, stopping in front of it. He stared down the length of his aristocratic nose, lips tipped into a dissatisfied frown. He lifted his chin, a proud line drawn across his broad shoulders, and Eggsy briefly saw Galahad standing tall above him. He shook his head to clear the vision.

            “No,” Charlie said. He kept his nose tipped up, but his normally smug façade had begun to crack beneath Professor Hart’s scrutiny.

            “No, I suspected not. Then consider this a lesson in manners. Leave my class and don’t come back until you learn to act with a sense of decorum,” Professor Hart said.

            “Excuse me?” Charlie spluttered.

            “You heard me. I won’t waste my time on students who insist on acting like children. Either you maintain yourself as a gentleman, or you don’t come to class.”

            Charlie’s wide eyes narrowed and he turned his glare at Eggsy accusingly. Eggsy bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning. Charlie huffed and shoved out of his seat. He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the class, slamming the door behind him.

            Professor Hart turned and walked back to the front of the class. “Now, shall we continue?” He launched into his lecture, discussing in intricacy the structure of the Roman government in the early BCs.

            Eggsy pulled out his notebook and pen and began to jot down notes. It was easy to lose himself in one of Professor Hart’s lectures. The gentle tandem of his crisp baritone lulled Eggsy into a calm, and his focus narrowed to the roll of constantans off Professor Hart’s tongue and the way Eggsy’s pen moved as he wrote.

            Everything else fell away. He didn’t have to think about being Guinevere, or about Nega-Fiends and the Nega-Syndicate, or even about the mysterious Galahad who had swept into his life. Eggsy didn’t allow himself to even linger on the thought of Galahad—once he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake it.

            Galahad had been what kept him up all night. He stared at his ceiling, J.B. slumbering against his side, and mulled over the memory of the masked hero who had saved him from certain death. Eggsy didn’t believe in happily ever after or white knights. The only person that is going to save you is yourself. But when he had stared at Galahad, he had wanted to believe in the fairy tale—more than he had ever wanted to believe in something. And that terrified him.

            When Eggsy looked up, he realized Professor Hart had finished. It was like coming up for air after sitting at the bottom of the pool. Students shuffled around him, packing up their things and filing out of class. Eggsy waited until the last student was gone before he shoved his things into his bag and walked over to Professor Hart’s desk.

            Professor Hart continued to review the paperwork he’d been working on while the class shuffled out. After five minutes, Eggsy coughed in his hand. His blood pressure spiked with each additional second that passed. Professor Hart finally set his pen down and looked up at Eggsy. The stare made Eggsy falter—it was so damn innocent and doe eyed. Professor Hart pulled out a paper from his briefcase and handed it back to Eggsy.

            Eggsy looked at it, noting the red ninety-one circled at the top. It was his paper he turned in last week. “Professor?”

            “What do you notice about this paper, Mr. Unwin?”

            “Eggsy,” Eggsy corrected automatically. He hated when Professor Hart called him that—it set Eggsy on edge. Mr. Unwin was what the fuzz would call him when they dragged him into the station.

            Professor Hart blinked, for a moment nonplussed, but then he snapped back and said, “Fair. But in kind, do me the favor of calling me Harry. I rather hate _Professor_. It sounds so stuffy.”

            Eggsy swallowed and looked at him. The corner of Professor Hart’s—no _Harry’s_ —mouth twitched up in a gentle smile. It softened the anxiety that was buzzing inside Eggsy.

            “Okay, Harry,” Eggsy said. Oh, he really liked how that rolled off his tongue. It was like honey. All sweet and decadent. Eggsy knew it would only be better when he was moaning _Harry_ at the top of us lungs.

            “Are you alright Eggsy, you’ve gone rather red,” Harry said.

            “Fine,” Eggsy stammered out, a bit too quickly. He cleared the thoughts from his head. “I don’t understand though, what is this? Did I do something wrong?”

            Other than a slightly lower grade (but still a ninety-one wasn’t something to turn his nose up at), he didn’t see anything bad about his paper. Did he not cite a section properly? Were they going to slam him with plagiarizing?

             “I was quite surprised when I got to your paper, Eggsy. By far, it isn’t your best work,” Harry said, and any good feeling Eggsy had on the paper vanished out the window.

            He looked back down at it, brow crinkled. He wrote it last minute, right after a grueling meeting with Percival, Merlin, and Lancelot. He’d realized last minute that the paper was due in the morning and had hurriedly typed something out. Normally he’d have it done well before the due date, but he’d been a bit distracted.

            “Eggsy,” Harry said, not giving him time to respond. “When I see you, I see a man with potential, a man who has learned to adapt and transform himself, someone who doesn’t let his circumstances and position dictate his fate. You are by far my brightest student, and when I saw that your most recent paper didn’t exactly hold up to your normal standards, it alarmed me. Is there anything going on?”

            Eggsy rubbed the back of his head. How did he explain that he was now entrenched in a battle for the world against a nefarious shadow organization and also trying to find the king of an alien kingdom?

            “I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently. A lot of papers and tests, and I’ve been working double at the tailor shop, and helping me mum with my sis,” Eggsy said, then clamped his mouth shut. He knew it was excuses. Harry had just said he didn’t let circumstances decide his fate, and here he was coming up with flimsy reasons as to why he couldn’t write a damn paper. The disappointment in Harry’s eyes stung. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

            “Harry,” he corrected. “And it’s alright. It happens to the best of us. But I would hate to see your grades slip. Why don’t we schedule some time, once or twice a week, for you to come in for some extra tutoring?”

            Eggsy really didn’t have the time, but the thought of some one-on-one with Harry was too good to pass up. “Just me and y’?”

            “Yes.”

            Eggsy was pretty sure he had a fantasy that started this way. “That sounds great,” Eggsy said, grinning. “Thanks, _Harry_.” He let his name roll off his tongue, dropping his timber to a slightly huskier note. Harry lifted his eyebrows but didn’t comment. “I could definitely use the… private lessons, and I promise I’m a quick learner.”

            Harry searched his face. Eggsy winked, thrilled at the blush that crept across Harry’s cheeks. Harry coughed in his hand, then straightened his tie and flustered over the papers on his desk. Eggsy bit back a laugh.

            “Does Wednesday work for you?” Harry asked, shoving papers in his brief case.

            “Wednesday is aces, bruv.”

            Harry pursed his lips at _bruv_ but nodded. “Two o’clock then, my office.”

            “Ta.” Eggsy left, his step considerably lighter than it was when he first arrived to class.


	5. Dinner for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn gets an offer he can't refuse.

            “I don’t know why she pushes,” Roxy complained. She’d been going on for the last ten minutes, the lunch she brought with her left untouched behind the counter.

            Robyn looked over his shoulder, hiding a smile. “She cares. She’s just worried you aren’t living up to your full potential.”

            “Yes, well I know being a secretary isn’t all that glamorous,” Roxy said, picking up her tea. She shifted in her seat, her legs crossed at the knee. “But it’s better than what she wants—marriage and two-point-five kids.”

            “She doesn’t want just that,” Percival said. He finished his paperwork and set his pen down. “What she wants is for you to be happy; she just has a bad way of expressing it.”

            “Mother has a bad way of expressing everything.” Roxy frowned into her mug. “She has the emotional depth of a thimble.”

            “She loves you,” Percival said, turning to face Roxy. “And it’s just a shame that you let certain opportunities slip by. One day you’ll wake up and realize you’ve missed the chance at something amazing.”

            “I couldn’t take that trip, Uncle Robyn. I’d leave you guys, and it isn’t like we can afford to be one man down, now is it? Being a secretary gives me the freedom to focus on the mission, and that’s far more important than playing translator for some ambassador.”

            Robyn clenched his hand at his side. A sharp sting of guilt lashed against his heart—he wished he could free Roxy of this life, of the responsibilities that shackled them. Maybe then she’d live her life instead of coasting through it like some vagabond. To her, all that mattered was the mission.

            The bell rang. Robyn looked over to the front. James sauntered into the shop. “Hello, little bird,” James greeted with a smile.

            “What are you doing here?” Robyn demanded, pulse picking up speed. Damn it, he needed to get himself under control. The minute James appeared, he turned into a school boy.

            Why couldn’t he keep himself together around James? As soon as James was in the room, Robyn forgot everything—he became a satellite caught in James’s orbit, unable to pull away.

            “Is that how you greet a customer?” James asked. He stopped in front of the counter, still grinning, and folded his arms over the top.

            “When it’s you? Yes,” Robyn stated briskly. “Now what do you want? Your suit isn’t ready, it’s still too early.”

            “You wound me.” James pressed his hand to his chest in mock injury.

            Robyn rolled his eyes and pointed to the door. “Out. I won’t have you in my hair while I work.”

            More specifically, he wouldn’t have James distracting him with his charming smile, and sparkling eyes, and his delicious cologne, which was a combination of spicy and earthy. Robyn dreamed about his scent. About his touch. About being bent over his work bench and worked open, James’s fingers spreading him wide, training him to take his cock—which if James’s measurements were anything to go off of, would be nice and thick.

            Did James like it vanilla, with Robyn on his back, ankles at his ears, or was he adventurous? Maybe some light spanking. Or James could see how much of his hand Robyn could take.

            “You’re so cruel to me, little bird,” James said, still feigning injury.

            Robyn snapped out of his daze and scowled at James. This was the very reason he couldn’t have James here. Robyn lost his head when the man was around, and eventually he’d make a misstep.

            “And you’re a nuisance. You can’t just come in here whenever you want. This isn’t the pub. It’s a business, and I have customers to worry about,” Robyn stated crisply.

            James made a show of looking around the shop. “Ah yes, I see Sir Reginald Walton is eagerly waiting for you to measure him.” James flashed Robyn another dimpled grin.

            “Oh sod off. You know what I mean.”

            “Well, I’ll have you know I did come for a reason. Not just to lollygag around.” James leaned on the counter.

            “You can’t possibly be ordering _another_ suit.”

            Behind him, Roxy laughed. Robyn made a mental note to give her a tongue lashing when James left.

            “No,” James said. “Afraid not today, though, if you ever want to double check my measurements, I’d been more than happy to slip into a fitting room.”

            “Not necessary.”

            “Are you sure Uncle Robyn?” Roxy asked. “I do believe Mr. Spencer has grown since the last time he was in.”

            “I have been drinking my milk.”

            Robyn glared at her and mouthed ‘traitor’. Roxy donned her most innocent smile, batting her eyelashes at him. Oh, he would remember this the next time Merlin was in the room. She thought he didn’t notice the way her gaze tracked the older wizard, but Robyn wasn’t blind.

            “What is it you needed, Mr. Spencer?” Robyn said, with a touch more force than necessary.

            “Well, you see, I have an extra ticket to the theater for Wednesday, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me. Perhaps dinner afterwards?”

            “I’m afraid I’m busy Wednesday.” With a good book and a glass of wine, but James didn’t need to know that.

            James wasn’t deterred. “You have such the social life, little bird. Is there another admirer I should be worried about?”

            “No. I’ll just be…” he raked his brain. “Roxy.”

            “Roxy?”

            “Yeah, me?”

            “Yes, Roxy dear, don’t you remember?” Robyn looked at her pleadingly. “We had dinner plans.”

            Roxy studied him, taping one long finger against her chin. “We do, don’t we?” Robyn let out a sigh of relief. “But you know what? I forgot to tell you I had to cancel. An _opportunity_ came up, and I shan’t pass it up.”

            Robyn’s expression soured. _Double traitor._

“Then you’re free?” James asked hopefully.

            Robyn sighed and looked at James, who stared at him with wide earnest eyes that made Robyn’s heart skip and knees go weak.

            “Mr. Spencer, as I’ve said,” Robyn began, wishing he didn’t feel like such a bully.

            “He’d love to,” Roxy cut in. “In fact, he was just telling me how he was hoping you’d come in.”

            They all three knew that was a lie, but none of them called Roxy on it. James smiled at Robyn, who floundered to come up with an excuse. His mind went blank, though.

            “Excellent. I’ll pick you up at seven,” James said. He reached in his pocket and extracted a business card. He slid it across the counter. “This is my private number. I’ll speak with you later.”

            Robyn accepted the card, helpless to do anything other than nod and murmur, “All right.”

            James winked at Robyn and left, brushing past Eggsy and Merlin as he squeezed through the door. J.B. slipped into the shop before the door closed. Eggsy looked back at James, then turned to Robyn and asked, “Wot was he doing here?”

            “Uncle Robyn has a date,” Roxy announced.

            “You wretched girl,” Robyn whined—yes, he whined. He knew it was unbecoming of a gentleman, but _damn it_ , what was he supposed to do?

            “A date?” Eggsy asked incredulously.

            “So you finally did it?” Merlin didn’t have to look so smug.

            “Oh, bugger off the lot of you. It wasn’t like I had much choice.” Robyn groused, crossing his arms over his chest. “It seems I’ve grown a skill for ventriloquism, because Roxy was speaking for me.”

            “Really Percival, you don’t have to be so petulant about it,” Merlin said, not even trying to hide the laughter in his voice. “It’s a date, not a death sentence. And it’s about time. Perhaps it’ll help you unwind.”

            “I don’t need unwinding,” Robyn snapped.

            “No, y’ need a good shagging,” Eggsy stated.

            Robyn’s face warmed. He opened and closed his mouth, floundering to find a comeback.

            “As fascinating as this conversation is,” J.B. cut in, “I think we have some more pressing matters to discuss.”

            Robyn sobered up, straightening his tie. “Right. What did you call us all here for?”

            “There was an attack last night,” J.B. announced.

            “Eggsy, can you get the door?” Robyn asked. Eggsy went and locked the door, flipping the closed sign over.

Robyn turned his focus over to business and not his impending date. It’s easy to shift his thoughts to the mission, to forget about the other half of himself that exists. A protective wall built up inside him, shutting out thoughts about _James_ and _first dates_ and _fumbling kisses in the dark_. None of that mattered at the moment. It’s all temporary, another fragment in a string of existences, and if Robyn held onto that, than he could let go of the sudden anxiety that dug into his heart.

“Should we go down to the secret hideout?” Eggsy asked, a tad too eagerly.

“It isn’t a secret hideout, you dolt,” Roxy teased.

It amazed Robyn how quickly Eggsy fell into place with them. He truly was Guinevere. It was the only thing that could explain the chemistry between Eggsy and the rest of the team.

“Well, wot do y’ call it then? It’s a secret and it’s a hide out. Secret hideout.” He sounded so sure of himself.

Roxy rolled her eyes, but no one argued Eggsy’s logic. J.B. snuffled and started for the fitting room. When they were down in the secret hideout, Merlin said, “Last night, around eight thirty, a Nega-Fiend attacked the Kingsly University.”

J.B. trotted over to the chair, circled the floor for a moment, and then hopped up onto it. “It was stronger than any other one we’ve faced. I’m afraid that the Nega-Syndicate is growing in power.”

Robyn looked at Roxy ,whose playful smiles had hardened into a concerned frown. “What happened?”

“We had to weaken her considerably before Guinevere could heal her,” Merlin said, hesitating at the end.

Robyn raised an eyebrow. “Is there more?”

There was a static to the air. Merlin’s usual composure was betrayed by a pinched expression and cloudy eyes. The air was pregnant with a tension, drawn so thin, that if any of them breathed, Robyn was sure it would snap.

“There was a guy,” Eggsy announced. He didn’t seem as concerned as Merlin, and perhaps that was because he hadn’t felt the crushing severity of their situation, or hadn’t had time to let the weight build on his shoulders. His eyes glazed over in wonder.

“A guy,” Robyn repeated. “What guy?”

“He called himself Galahad. Swooped in out of nowhere, swear down, he saved my arse,” Eggsy said. “Be getting shat out by a Nega-Fiend right now if it weren’t for him.”

Robyn grimaced at the imagery. He looked over to J.B. It was hard to read the pug’s expression—mostly because it always looked clueless. “Is this another Kingsman?”

“I’ve never seen him before,” J.B. said. “I don’t know, but we need to keep our guard up.”

“Why? He _saved_ me. That makes him a good guy, don’t it?” Eggsy looked at each of them, and for a moment Robyn was reminded of an overeager puppy. “Well?”

“Possibly,” Robyn said. “He may be someone we have to work with. We may even be able to establish a symbiotic relationship with him. Or…”

“Or? Or wot?”

“Or he could be working for the Nega-Syndicate, lad,” Merlin finished.

Eggsy’s hopeful look dropped. “Wot? No, no he wouldn’t have swooped in like that. The guy is definitely a good guy. Y’ saw him, Merlin. He was a proper gent.”

“He came out of nowhere and left before we could even talk with him,” Merlin pointed out.

“Maybe he’s shy? A loner, like batman.”

“This isn’t a comic book,” J.B. barked. “This is real life, and we can’t take any chances.”

Eggsy scowled down at the floor. Robyn shot him a sympathetic look, and then turned back to J.B. “What about the Nega-Syndicate? Any progress on locating them?”

The pug shifted in the chair, flopping down so his head was tucked between his paws. “No.”

“And no leads on the Silver Excalibur?” Merlin prompted.

J.B.’s ears lowered against his head. “None.”

“So basically yer saying we got nufin, still?” Eggsy frowned. “Maybe if we talked to Galahad.”

“No, Eggsy,” J.B. barked.

“Well wot do y’ suggest?” He crossed his arms. “How do we even find the Silver Excalibur? Ain’t like it’s going to be a sword in the stone.”

“No, though that would be considerably easier to find,” Robyn said. “We have a few working theories, but so far none of them have panned out.”

“We thought maybe it was in a Heart Crystal, but we haven’t come across it yet,” Roxy said.

“So basically, once again, we’re up shit creek?”

“To put it crudely, yes.” Robyn rubbed his temple. “We’ll have to double our efforts.”

Maybe he could use this as an excuse to get out of his date with James. Roxy pointed a finger at him. “No.”

Robyn scowled. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I do and the answer is still no.”

“No wot?”

“Percival is trying to get out of his date, it seems,” Merlin said. Bastard was smirking.

Robyn glared at him. “I’m so glad everyone finds my torment amusing.”

“Bruv, it ain’t torment. James is a fit bloke. And we’ve all seen how y’ look at his arse. Just enjoy it.”

Robyn threw his hands up. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when you have to do all the work yourselves.”

“We won’t,” Roxy promised.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr.](http://sheepunderthemountain.tumblr.com)


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